


A Harem of One

by HollyeLeigh



Series: A Harem of One [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Constantinople, F/M, Harems, Lady Emma, London society, Romance, Scoundrel Killian, Sexy Times, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Killian Jones, younger son of Prominent Turkish Businessman, Brennan Jones, meets Lady Emma during the height of the London season just a few weeks before he must head back to Constantinople to take over the family shipping business. Despondent over the fact that he had to leave the woman he loves behind, things get interesting when Brennan tries to give Killian a welcome home gift.





	A Harem of One

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Period AU set in Constantinople with flashbacks of London society. Lady Emma / Scoundrel Killian; Props to @winterbaby89 for the use of her eyes and brain on this.

 

* * *

 

Captain Silver had always said that the sea was in Killian’s blood, and though there was definitely some truth to that, after a little over a fortnight of travel from London to Constantinople Killian was glad to be off the ship and at his father’s estate once more.

Well, glad was, perhaps, not entirely accurate.

Content?

No, that rang false as well.

Truth be told, Killian was probably more resigned than anything else at being back in his father’s homeland. Resigned, but not pleased. For all his hopes of pleasure and gladness had been left back in London.

With her.

_ Six weeks prior... _

_ “Come now little brother, how do you expect to meet a nice, respectable lady if you hide here in the corner all night?” Liam questioned as he passed Killian another flute of champagne. _

_ “Maybe I’m not interested in a nice, respectable lady. Ever think of that?” Killian quipped as he downed the beverage his brother had given him, wishing it were something stronger. _

_ “Killian,” Liam exasperated, as was his nature and custom when dealing with his broody little brother. “I might be the one with the title, but as my brother, you will be expected to take a wife of suitable station. It wouldn’t hurt you to get to know a few ladies of the English nobility.” _

_ “Liam, Ladies of the English nobility are insufferable,” Killian replied, his ire at the entire evening bubbling to the surface, and proceeding to spill over in Killian’s typical dramatic fashion. “They are vapid creatures that care nothing about any subject of consequence. If the conversation isn’t related to the latest gossip or fashion, then they have no interest. I have no intentions of engaging in mind numbing small talk for the next several hours, especially when there is no incentive to do so. I’m not interested in taking a wife, and no lady here would be agreeable to joining me in the  _ activities _ of which I am interested.” His lifted brows and smirk giving emphasis to his words, leaving little room to question just what kind of activities he’d been referring. _

_ “Must you be crass?” Liam muttered as he stalked off, clearly irritated, which Killian chalked up as a victory. _

_ It wasn’t that he enjoyed getting under his brother’s skin - well, actually, yes. Yes he did - but rather that Killian was never at ease in London society. Too much of their father in him, Killian feared. _

_ As far as anyone within the titled gentry was concerned, Liam and Killian Jones were the sons of the departed Lady Adelaide who had fallen in love and married foreign dignitary, Brennan Jones, from Constantinople. Choosing to remain in that faraway land with her husband, Adelaide had sent her sons back to England for their educations, and so that her eldest could learn the duties and responsibilities of the Earldom he’d inherited at birth. _

_ What the gentry did not know was that Lady Adelaide was actually one of Brennan’s many wives, and that Liam and Killian were just two of his vast number of offspring. Though of western descent, Brennan had been born and raised in the east with its customs and traditions of noblemen taking on multiple wives and keeping harems; a practice Liam admonished vehemently while Killian, though uninterested in such a lifestyle for himself, tolerated as part and parcel of his father’s household. _

_ Since neither Liam nor Killian were among the eldest of Brennan’s children they were given more leave to explore the world of their mother’s upbringing; Liam as a titled Lord, and Killian the spare. Liam took to the life of privilege and duty quite naturally, while Killian always felt just slightly out of step. He had no interest in agriculture, or managing estates, or endless balls and parties, and although the pleasures of certain Gentlemen’s Clubs with their gaming, boozing, and womanizing had certainly entertained him for a time, they too were losing their allure. _

_ Much as the rest of England had, making his father’s offer to return to Constantinople and head up the family shipping business all the more appealing. Killian knew that his brother had hoped he’d meet a nice and proper lady to settle down with, but nice and proper wasn’t really Killian’s style. _

Speaking of nice and proper…

_ Killian watched as Lady Elsa - a respectable member of the fairer sex that his brother regarded with high esteem, though he hadn’t even made a move for an introduction yet - stepped out onto the balcony he’d sequestered himself next to, and was startled to hear her address someone that, apparently, had also hidden themselves away in the shadows. _

_ “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. How do expect to meet any of the titled gentry if you’re hiding out on the balcony?” _

_ “Maybe I’m not interested in meeting a member of the titled gentry,” the voice answered, piquing Killian’s curiosity at the all too familiar conversation. _

_ “Of course you are!” Elsa exclaimed incredulously. “You are a Lady, now, and Ladies marry titled gentlemen.” _

Indeed, Lady Elsa and Liam are perfect for one another,  _ Killian mused as he heard a long suffering sigh escape from the lips of the enigmatic woman he found himself quite eager to catch a glimpse of. _

_ “So far I find titled gentlemen to be insufferable,” the woman claimed as she stepped out of the shadows of the balcony. _

_ Out of the shadows and straight into Killian’s keen interest and attention. She was absolutely stunning. Golden hair artfully twisted with curls cascading down her back that begged to be free of their pins. Creamy, smooth skin that his fingers itched to caress. Strong features that hailed her tough nature, but also bore a feminine softness; a softness that extended down the lines and curve of her form. A form he wouldn’t mind seeing stretched out beneath him on his bed. _

_ “They are boorish and vain creatures who expect you to laugh at all of their jokes and only speak when they ask your opinion… if they haven’t given it to you already,” she continued as she walked with Lady Elsa to rejoin the party. “I’m not interested in a man like that. A man who cares nothing of my opinion or what sort of...  _ activities _ I might have interest.” _

_ That last bit was meant for him, made evident by the slight upward tilt of her lip and brow as she cast a quick, but knowing glance in his direction as they passed by. Killian could no more stop the grin that now resided upon his face anymore than he could stop the tides or the stirring of the winds - or the stirring of other things - and he purposed right then and there to discover all he could about the fiery woman who had challenged him with his own words. For he did so like a challenge. _

Emma.

Lady Emma was her name.

The granddaughter of a Marquis, she was new to English society having come from America after her Uncle had died. Her father had no wish to leave the life he had made for himself in the former colonies, and had sent her to England so that she might determine whether a life among the nobility would suit her desires, though Killian had come to learn over the subsequent weeks that her desires did not lend themselves to the prim and proper notions of English society.

Not that they had engaged in any relations that would have been considered illicit or scandalous, more’s the pity, but that her natural longings were for things like travel and adventure, not book clubs and high tea or finding a suitable match.

Killian may have began his pursuit of her out of a more carnal regard, but things changed more rapidly than he could have ever prepared himself for. He could not say when, precisely, but just days after working out a formal and proper introduction Killian found himself less pressed about that which lay beneath her skirts, and more intrigued by that which resided in her mind.

She was spirited and witty. Never ending in opinions, most of which had them engaging in the most deliciously heated of arguments. She had a way of sparking his intellect, and though that spark would in turn ignite his blood in an arduous fervor, he endeavored to be a gentleman - much to his, and Liam’s, amazement.

Not that he was altogether completely proper with her in every regard, nor she with him for that matter. He’d flirted outrageously, applying indecent innuendo and use of bawdy euphemisms in every possible encounter in an effort to coax out one of her bewitching smiles or carefree laughs.

Skirting lines of decorum and propriety, he’d let his eyes roam over her with the heat and intent he’d wish to apply with the touch of his hands or the caress of his mouth upon her skin, even as he delighted in the small favors of her hand brushing against his, or the way he was allowed to - with respectable regard - hold her in his arms as they waltzed at various parties together.

Tempted as he had been to try and entice her into more enjoyable activities than those of which modern society would allow, Killian had held no wish to tarnish her reputation, especially with his impending departure back to his father’s household so quickly approaching, and so he had maintained just enough decorum between them to ensure she would endure no ill-fated and lasting effects of their acquaintance.

Which is not to say that he did not have any regrets in leaving her behind, for he most assuredly did. He regretted that he would never know the silkiness of her hair as it slipped through his fingers, or the flavor of her lips as his tongue swept across them. Grieved at the loss of her challenging demeanor as she provoked him with her ideals and the audacity of her mindset. Mourned the way in which she maddeningly beguiled him with her feminine wiles even as she regarded him with a reserve that was just the correct side of proper.

But mostly he called himself a fool for not realizing how hopelessly and completely in love with her he had found himself. For he was, indeed, completely besotted with Lady Emma and no amount time or travel from her shores to his had been able to diminish the ache and longing, nor had it soothed the aggravation he felt at himself for allowing the opportunity to express such declarations, and hope for their return, to pass him by.

He should have told her that final afternoon. Should have confessed all that was in his heart and asked her to come away with him, or perhaps, he should have taken a leaf out of his father’s book and forgone the asking... his mother hadn’t exactly been willing at the time of his parents’ nuptials, a common enough practice in that part of the world, but one that not even Killian could stomach the reality of. He wanted Emma willing, or not at all, but just the mere notion that she may not have wanted him in return had been enough to bury his feelings and take his leave without any indication or prospect of their meeting again.

_ He was a damned fool. _

After settling himself in the chambers reserved for him until he could move to the permanent lodgings being prepared for his use, Killian sought out his father in the office he kept at the estate.

“Killian!” Brennan’s voice boomed as he rose from his seat to greet him with a tight embrace. “So, the Prodigal Son returns?” His father teased, a knowing smile at his lips that told Killian he’d been kept well apprised of his offspring’s actions while away.

Prodigal indeed, but only up until the last month. There wasn’t a single moment spent in Emma’s presence that Killian would consider wasteful, even if he did squander the chance to make those moments lasting.

“So it would seem.” Was the only answer Killian could muster as he attempted to tamp down his melancholy. Forlorn as he was at her absence, Killian did not wish for his father to believe him unhappy with the prospect he had presented to him. Taking over as head of the family shipping business was a great honor, and one that Killian was most eager to immerse himself in, even if only for the distraction such work would provide against the nagging desire in his heart.

“And Liam? He is well, I take it?”

“Aye. As fastidious in his duties as ever,” Killian replied. “I dare say we might receive word of a betrothal soon.”

Killian’s determination to gain an introduction with Lady Emma had been just the push Liam had needed to put his aspirations towards Lady Elsa into action, and Killian’s early summations had been correct. The two of them were perfect for one another.

“How marvelous!” Brennan proclaimed. “It pleases me to know that your mother’s heritage will continue in her beloved homeland as she hoped it would.”

Gone these past fifteen years, and yet the memory of Adelaide Jones still had the capacity to prompt her husband into moments of wistful sentimentality that he rarely displayed over any other subject. Despite the nature of Brennan’s plural lifestyle Killian had never questioned the love and devotion he’d held for his and Liam’s mother.

Attempting to diffuse the heavy tension that had settled around them Brennan clapped Killian on the shoulder as he led them towards the large table at the center of the room.

“As you know, I’ve had one of our estates renovated for your use. Tomorrow we’ll see your new residence first hand, but tonight I thought you might like to have a look at the plans.” Brennan rolled out the large section of parchment that displayed the rendering of the estate Killian would call home as he settled into his new life in Constantinople.

It was a spacious property, located along the shoreline, and not far from the main hub of the city’s shipping industry. Everything Killian would need for comfort and status was reflected within the plans, but an unlabeled section caught Killian’s eye and curiosity prompted him to ask, “What is this space for?”

“Oh, that?” Brennan responded, a hesitancy in his tone making Killian’s brow raise. “That is the space reserved for your harem.”

“Father,” Killian exasperated. “I’ve no need for, nor do I desire a harem. I believe I’ve made my feelings on this subject quite clear.”

“You have,” Brennan acknowledged, even as his own brow raised and a smirk presented itself along his features, “though you might change your mind once you see the beauties I have acquired in order to fill it for you.”

Killian groaned as his stomach turned at the prospect that he was about to receive a ‘gift’ straight from a seedy market’s auction block. “Please do not tell me you have already purchased a parcel of women.” Pinching the bridge of nose as he tried to rein in his agitation.

“Of course not,” Brennan scoffed, momentarily relieving Killian of his unease. Until he added, “I had them taken from the shores of England and brought back on the merchant ship that accompanied you home.”

“You what?!” Killian exclaimed, his temper flaring. “Well, you can bloody well have them sent back!”

“Now, Killian. I know this isn’t an aspect of life here that you’ve been altogether comfortable with, but a thriving harem is a mark of a success.” Killian began pacing the room, unable to look his father in the eye. “If it is their treatment that concerns you, I made it clear to Teach and Silver that these women were meant for you and they were not to be trifled with in any way by the crew. I am assured that they remained untouched during the voyage, and while most of them have most likely known the touch of a man before, Teach believes there to be at least one virgin among them.”

Killian stopped and could only gape at his father. The idea that one of the poor unfortunate souls who had been snatched from their home and brought to distant shores might be untouched would somehow be a consolation to him in the face of such an atrocity completely confounded him.  

Well, at least he knew the first order of business he’d conduct as soon as he took the reins of the shipping company - dismiss Silver and Teach, and end the practice of human trafficking on their ledgers.

Before Killian could even attempt to respond to his father’s outrageous justifications, a rustle of curtains grabbed his attention. Several women were being led into the room by Captains Silver and Teach, all clad in sheer pantaloons and embellished bandeaus that displayed their midriffs and left little of their feminine wiles to the imagination.

As the remaining women were being ushered in Killian turned to face his father once more, determined to make the man understand that he had no intentions of accepting such a gift when a startled gasp broke through Killian’s resolve and a familiar sounding, “Oh my God” plunged his heart into his stomach.

Killian’s head snapped back towards the group of woman and his eyes met the jade hue that had plagued him since he’d left England, but they did not reflect the spirited and challenging gaze he’d come to know from their depths, instead he was met with shock, fear, and despair.

As his mind tried to comprehend her presence there, tried to fathom how she could have found herself from the safety of the drawing room he’d left her in back in England to now be standing in a barely there ensemble in his father’s estate in Constantinople (an ensemble he must use every ounce of determination he possesses in order to ignore, even as his member stirs to attention at the sight of her) when he hears Teach reprimand her.

“Ye were told not to speak in yer Master’s presence!” His arm raised to give a physical account of the seriousness of his words.

Killian took two purposeful strides towards Teach and grasped the man’s wrist before he could administer his retribution upon the woman.

“Lay a hand on her and you’ll lose it, Mate,” he growled, his rage spiking as he sees her shrink back against the wall.

His Emma wasn’t afraid of anything, it was not in her nature to back down, but she never had to face the brutality of a man like Teach before, and her reaction had Killian questioning the assurances the man had given his father about their treatment while under his care. Questions that had Killian seeing red at the prospect that liberties may have been taken with that which belonged to him.

The jealousy and possessiveness rippling through him gave Killian a moment’s pause even as he vowed to himself that should he find Lady Emma harmed in any way Teach would have more than the loss of his employment to contend with.

Teach pulled his wrist from the vice of Killian’s grip as Brennan cleared his throat. “A change of plans, Captain. My son has decided to not accept our gift. Turn the women over to Mrs. Claremont’s care until arrangements can be made for them.” Mrs. Claremont being Brennan’s housekeeper and manager of all harem affairs as they pertained to Brennan’s concubines and wives.

“Wait.” Killian called out, a war erupting within his conscience even as the battle surged within his veins. “Not her.” He indicated with a nod towards Emma. “She is not to be turned over into Mrs. Claremont’s care.”

“Whose care shall we turn her over to, then?”

“Mine,” Killian declared as he watched Emma’s eyes go wide. “Take her to my bedchamber.” Killian turned and stormed out of the room without looking at his father’s bemused and self-satisfied smirk.

Sometime later, after having seen to the arrangements that would ensure the other woman were truly cared for and compensated for their troubles, Killian made his way back towards his bedchamber. Back towards her. His Emma.

Though, he knew she was not truly his. She was not there of her own volition, and tempted as he may be to call it fate and simply keep her, he would not be able to live with himself knowing he had taken her in any way that was against her will.

The mystery of how she ended up so far from home and had providentially landed herself within his holding vexed his curiosity, and he was impatient to hear the tale of how she’d managed to find herself among slave traders, even as he tried to tamp down the frenzy of his speculations and anxieties over her treatment at their hands. Speculations that had him visualizing dark and sinister punishments for her captors’ transgressions should he find them guilty of such actions.

His dark musings remained even as he swung open the door to his chamber, but fled him as soon as his eyes landed on her. The sight of her exposed form in the sheer and enticing garments sent a wave of desire straight to his trousers, and he couldn’t stop his appreciative appraisal as his eyes swept hungrily over her curves as she made her way to him.

Having secured the door behind him he was unsure what to expect in her approach, but the slap of her hand forcefully against his cheek was not something he had considered, nor prepared himself for. She reared her arm back to administer a second blow only to have it caught by his hand as he turned her into him and pinned her back against his front. Subduing her in his arms as he appreciated the contact of so much soft skin pressed along his body even as the sting of her ire radiated from face.

“I’ve done many things in my life to warrant such a reaction from a woman, but I’m not entirely sure I deserved that,” he murmured deeply against her ear.

“Take your hands of me you… you... Scoundrel!”

“Scoundrel?” he chuckled. “I prefer dashing rapscallion, love.”

“I don’t care what you’d prefer!” she hissed as she struggled against his hold.

“Well, now that is a shame, and here I was hoping we could indulge one another in all sorts of  _ preferences.” _

Emma stilled at his words and Killian knew he’d gone too far in his teasing. Knew that her temper was a mask for the fear and trepidation she felt over the uncertainty of her circumstances. Killian sighed as he eased up on his grip.

“Apologies, love,” he began, pouring sincerity and reassurance into each word as he spoke. “I assure you that you’ve nothing to fear from me. I had nothing to do with your abduction, yours or any of those other women. I only wish to know how you ended up here so I can ensure that nothing of this nature ever happens again, and whether or not you’ve been mistreated in any way so I can mete out a punishment suitable for the perpetrators.” He could feel her relax slightly, the fight leaving her as relief took hold, giving evidence that she trusted his word. “Now, much as it pains me, for I do so enjoy having you in my arms, darling, I’m going to release you. Promise to behave yourself?” he teased, and could almost hear the roll of her eyes in response.

“Fine.”

She turned to face him and it took all his determination and willpower to keep his eyes on her face and his hands at his sides.

“What happened, love? How the blazes did you end up here?” he began in his inquiry, hoping the tale might distract him from the swell of her breasts, or the way the chill of the night air coming in from the balcony had made her nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of the bandeau.

_ Focus, Jones! _

“They grabbed me off the docks the night you left,” she answered. “Pulled me from my carriage as I waited for my driver to return with news of where I might…”

“Might what? What the bloody hell were you doing down at the docks at night?!” His temper flaring at her insistence to do whatever she damn well pleased despite the risks.

“You left without a word!” she fired back. “As if the time we had spent together had meant nothing to you! I went to the docks to find you,” she confessed, catching him off guard with the motive of her actions. “I hated the way we left things, and wanted to… it doesn’t matter.” she snapped, taking a step away and turning her back on him. “Now that I know the kind of man you truly are.”

“Oh? And what kind of man is that?” The hurt that she could believe the worst of him buried beneath a tone of challenging indifference as he swung her back around to face him.

“The kind who condones this treatment of women. The kind who would wish for a harem full of women to stroke his ego and service his needs without any concern for  _ their _ pride or needs,” she accused, tears welling up in her eyes that tore at his heart.

“I have no wish for a harem full of women,” he stated emphatically, his eyes never leaving hers in the hopes that she would accept the truth of his declarations. “I wish only for a harem of one, love, and just as soon as I take over my father’s shipping business I plan to put an end to such practices as those that brought you here.”

“You… you do?” she asked, hope lacing her words and filling Killian with a surge of the emotion for himself.

“Aye, love. And I will see to it that your captors are punished for the role they played in your abduction, and for any… harm you may have experienced at their hand.” He could feel his jaw ticking under the strain as he waited for her to tell of the treatment she endured while on board the merchant ship.

“We weren’t harmed,” she reassured, and went on to confirm that she had endured no further indecencies than simply being taken against her will and brought a world away to a foreign shore.

His dark envisionments having borne no fruit in her testimony, he let out a shaky breath of relief and saw a small smile curve at her lips over his concern for her well-being. He could have reached out and touched the palpable shift of tension in the room. Where moments ago it had been fraught with tempers, and fear, and pain, it now swelled with the crackling promise of desire and tenderness. Promise that seemed to thicken the air around them even as it stole the breath from his lungs.

Killian felt the uptick in his pulse as he watched Emma wet her lips before asking, “What will happen to the other women?”

“They’ll be sent back to England with compensation for their troubles, or they may use that compensation to start anew here in Constantinople.”

“And me?” she whispered as they swayed ever closer into each other’s space. “Am I to be sent back to England as well?”

“Is that what you truly want, Emma?” he asked, brushing a section of her hair over her shoulder and caressing a path down the line of her arm with his fingertips.

“ _ Lady _ Emma,” she corrected, but without the necessary force to give credence to her words. “You forget yourself, Mr. Jones.”

“Do I?” he challenged, closing the remaining gap between them until his lips were a breath away from hers. “Tell me,  _ Lady  _ Emma. Why did you go down to the docks to try and find me that night?”

“I… I.” He watched her swallow as her eyes widened. A beguiling blush making its way up her neck.

“What were you hoping would happen between us? Were you, perhaps, hoping that I might take you in my arms? That I might confess my undying love for you and kiss you?” Raising his brows with a smirk at his lips he wrapped his arms around her as she brought her hands up to press against his chest, attempting to keep space between them as she turned her flushed face from him.

Killian gently took her chin in hand and brought her face back towards him before he leaned in to tease in her ear, “Or maybe you were hoping for more enjoyable activities, hmmm?” His member becoming fully erect at the shiver of wonder that ran up her spine. “Ones that would have required me to loosen the laces of your corset and bunch up your skirts to your waist.”

“Don’t,” Emma protested meekly, as she pushed against him and he let his arms fall back at his sides. Her breathing became shallow as her eyes darkened.

“Were you hoping I’d take you that night, Emma?” he asked stepping towards her once more as he saw her indecision and longing in the look she gave him. Advancing until he had her backed against the wall next to his bed. “Take you in my bunk, or up against the door, perhaps?” His hot breath against her neck sending another cascade of shivers down her body. “Were you longing to feel my hands caress your body? Aching to have my mouth and tongue map the lines of your form? Because I assure you, darling, I’ve wanted for little else than just such a pleasure since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” He placed his hands on the wall at either side of her head and pressed himself against her, giving her the evidence of his words as his arousal brushed against her pelvis, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest.

“Mr. Jones… I”

“We are far from the propriety and decorum of England, Emma. Are you sure you wish for me to stop?” he whispered against her lips.

“No,” Emma exhaled. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Their kiss seared him down to his soul and once again brought forth the truth he had only come to realize after leaving her behind; he well and truly loved her, and had no desire to ever have any woman other than Emma in his bed, in his arms, or in his heart. A truth he declared to her between impassioned kisses. A truth that was echoed back to him in her confessions as he stared awestruck into her gaze, and longed to give proof of his feelings without further words, but with action.

“Let me have you, my darling,” he murmured into her skin. “Not just for tonight, but for always. Will you give yourself to me as I wish to give myself to you? For the rest of our days, Emma?”

“Yes, Killian. Yes,” she exclaimed, the joy of love and the want of desire caressing her words and igniting his blood with a clawing need.

He made short work of her garments, slipping the pantaloons down her shapely legs and releasing the closure of her top as she stepped out of the sheer clothing only to shyly wrap herself around him before he could fully take in her form.

“Don’t hide yourself from me, Emma. Let me see you, love,” he encouraged as he stepped back from her embrace to marvel at the woman bare before him. “Stunning you are,” he voiced with reverence and awe. “An absolute vision.”

He caught her mouth once more as his hands roamed over her skin, cupping her breasts and encouraging her nipples into hardened peaks. He made his way down her neck and chest with hot, opened mouthed kisses, before lavishing his attentions upon her breasts, with his tongue and teeth.

Emma clung to him as his hands made their way further down her form and he had to close his eyes momentarily in response to the proof of her want for him when her pooling warmth coated his fingers as he explored and mapped the femininity between her thighs.

“So wet for me, darling,” he groaned as he watched her expression; a mix of wonder and hesitancy as she grasped at his shoulders in an effort to keep herself upright.

“Has anyone ever touched you this way, Emma? Has any other man experienced the privilege of being between your thighs?” he rasped against her neck as he continued to lay heated kisses back up along the column of her throat toward ear. “Answer me, love,” he demanded softly when she made no attempt to respond.

“No, Killian,” she confessed breathlessly. “There’s never been anyone else.”

A primal swell of satisfaction rose within him at the confirmation that he alone would be privy to her delights, would be the one to introduce her to the pleasures locked within her own body, and would be the only man with whom she would ever share such intimacies with, just as she was the only woman he would give himself to for the rest of their days.

She arched into his hand as he began to circle his thumb over the sensitive bundle that rested at her apex, a luxuriant moan escaping from her lips and flooding him with a fresh wash of desire that had his member straining and begging for relief. Relief that would have to wait as he refocused his attentions to the goddess in his arms and his own curiosities.

“What of your own hand?” he questioned softly in her ear. “Tell me, darling, have you touched yourself in the quiet of the night? Explored yourself with tentative touches? Did you think of me, darling? Did you wish for it to be me that would bring you to your release?” He slipped a finger into her heat as he continued to swirl his thumb with increasing pressure, causing her head to fall back against the wall as her breathing changed to shallow pants. “Tell me, Emma,” he urged as he slipped another finger into her, curling them has they glided in and out of her core. Her legs began to shake under the strain of her approaching climax as she answered.

“Yes. Yes, I have, but…”

“But what, love?”

“It’s never felt like this.”

A whimper fell from her lips as he removed his hand from her intimacy and guided her towards the bed, positioning her at its edge and encouraging her to lie back as he dropped to his knees between her legs. The sharp, heady scent of her arousal filled his senses and made his tongue eager for the taste of her delicacy; a delicacy he nearly lost himself to as his mouth fervently worshipped the center of her womanhood, and her climax washed over his tongue like a rare and exotic elixir, the taste of which he would never get enough of.

As she slowly descended back down from the heights of her ecstasy, he divested himself of his clothes and made his way up her body with gentle caresses of his hands, mouth, and tongue revelling in the vibrations that thrummed through her body as he prepared her for his entrance.

“Are you ready for me, my love?” he asked as he met her gaze, searching for any indication of reluctance, and relieved that he found none even as he waited for her reply. “Tell me you want me, Emma. Say the words, love.”

“Yes, Killian,” she confirmed. “Please. I want you.”

Gradually, he made his way into her slick, welcoming heat, groaning at the sensation of her embrace around him as he heard her gasp and shudder at his intrusion. He paused to give her time to adjust to the foreign feel of his member sheathed within her, and then began to move in a steady rhythm as he felt her relax against him.

“So tight, love.” he moaned into her skin, and another groan escaped him as he felt a shudder of pleasure tremble through her body. “Gods, you feel incredible.”

Keeping himself in check, he set a slow and deliciously torturous pace so as to not overwhelm or harm her in any way. He watched as his member disappeared at the place of their union as she welcomed him again and again, drawing out long moans from each of them as he gained greater purchase with each thrust.

She was, indeed, a vision. Her skin flushed with the heat of their lovemaking, the sheen of perspiration glistening under the filtered moonlight that filled the room, her body taut and beckoning beneath him, urging him on even as he fought the desire to ravish her with complete abandon.

His resolve nearly failed him when he heard Emma whisper his name as she began to confess, “I feel…”

“Gods, yes, love! Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me how it feels.” His pace quickening with desperate need.

“Tingly,” she panted, forcing a chuckle from him at her description, even as he fully understood her meaning as the tell of her thighs began to shake once more.

Adjusting the angle of his hips, he sought out that place within her that he knew would have her calling out his name once more, knowing he had met his mark when her back arched and a fresh cascade of gasps and moans fell from her lips. As he made contact with that building bliss again and again he felt his own ‘tingly’ response gather at the base of his spine, but he was determined to hold off his own release until she fell over the edge so he could guide her through the fall.

“Killian,” Emma cried out, causing him to groan as a shudder coursed through him at her utterance.

“Again,” he pleaded. “Say it again, Emma.”

“K-Killian,” she stuttered as he felt her walls contract, her face radiant with the ecstasy of her release.

He chased the cresting wave of her satisfaction only to meet her upon the shore of their mutual bliss as he came with the praise of her name on his lips.

Moments later, sated and basking in the afterglow of their love making, Killian couldn’t resist teasing her as he questioned. “So? What say you, love? Do you wish to become a part of my harem?” His brows twitching into his hairline as he bit his lower lip and gave her a seductive, yet playful look.

Emma giggled as she confirmed, “A harem of one, correct?”

“Aye, love. You’re all the harem I need. All I’ll ever need,” he vowed as he placed a gentle kiss upon her lips.

“And all you could ever handle,” she brazenly challenged with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Is that so?” he smirked as she nodded, a self-assured smile gracing her face. “I look forward to putting that to the test, darling, you know how I do so love a challenge.”

Killian gathered her into his arms and held her as she drifted off to sleep, contemplating the other challenges they would face together. Enduring the scandal of their elopement (a story he planned to perpetuate through the London Society via his brother), the changes that would need to be made in order to end the slave trade within his shipping business, adapting to a foreign city, and making a home in a place so different from the world to which they were accustomed.

But even in the face of these challenges, and whatever else life might throw at them, Killian was bolstered by the truths they had spoken earlier. Most especially, the truth that the woman currently wrapped within his arms, his harem of one, was all he would ever need.

  
  



End file.
